


Vanished

by Fericita



Series: Vanished [1]
Category: Frozen (Disney Movies), Frozen 2 - Fandom
Genre: Agnarr remembers, Amnesia AU, Angst, Arendelle, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Iduna does not, northuldra
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-08
Updated: 2020-05-17
Packaged: 2021-03-02 18:20:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 20,768
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24081208
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fericita/pseuds/Fericita
Summary: AU where Agnarr rescues Iduna as the mist descends and she loses her memory. He takes her to Arendelle and keeps her past a secret from everyone including Iduna herself, thinking it will keep her safe.Includes this scene from Frozen 2:“I need to tell you about my past. And where I’m from.” His fingers touched her hair and she nestled her cheek against his palm.“I’m listening.”Thank you @the-spastic-fantastic for developing this with me through brainstorming, mutual all caps excitement, skillful editing, Elias’s and Mrs. Calder’s best lines, outlining help, and the amazing moodboard you all should go check out on Tumblr! Four chapters, to be posted over the next two weeks.
Relationships: Agnarr & Iduna (Disney), Agnarr/Iduna (Disney)
Series: Vanished [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1971163
Comments: 16
Kudos: 33





	1. Chapter 1

“Say it.”

Agnarr looked at his friend, then back down to Iduna’s sleeping form on the overstuffed mattress tucked into the corner of a small room near the kitchen, meant for a servant. There was nothing about it that resembled the homes or beds of the Northuldra. But she wouldn’t remember that.

“I rescued her from a ship attacked by pirates, the only survivor.”

“And what will you do if she speaks Northuldra?” He brushed the hair away from Iduna’s cheek as he spoke, tracing his fingers along the bruise there that was already a deep purple. He was more worried about the hard lump on the back of her head, but didn’t want to touch what was already so tender. She had whimpered in her sleep when he had last tried to feel it for blood.

“Tell her she must speak in the tongue she hears from me.”

“Elias, you have to be sure of that. We passed bodies on the way here. The Northuldra traders who were in town, they’ve been murdered. I will calm the chaos but it will take time. She must stay safe. Burn her clothes and boots. Give her something of Linnea’s or Thea’s to wear. Please keep her safe.”

“I will. I swear, Agnarr. My father too.”

“And if she remembers anything…” Agnarr trailed off, the urgency and horror of his previous statements still heavy in the air like smoke after a battle. Like the mist around the stones.

Elias put a hand on Agnarr’s shoulder. “If she remembers anything, I’ll keep her quiet and we’ll get word to you.”

***

“The King is dead! Long live the King!”

Agnarr waved from the balcony and it was a chore to keep his face impassive and his arm steady. People were spread out in the courtyard below and he could even see sailors manning the rail on the ships in the harbor. He looked up to the sloping hill of the fjord and saw families waving from roofs and upper windows with handkerchiefs in their hands. He waved to them all, dipping his head in acknowledgement, brief prayers on his lips for courage, for wisdom, for his kingdom, for the soul of his father, but most of all, for Iduna.

***

Iduna woke with the sensation of a scream unfinished on her tongue and smoke in her lungs. She raised a hand to her tangled hair and felt a lump, pulsing with her heartbeat. She groaned and the grimace brought a tight feeling to her cheek. She put her other hand there and felt a tight knot.

“Oh! You’re awake! I’ll go run and fetch Father. Stay still, the physician said you must.”

Iduna turned her head slowly to the sound of the voice, but only saw the swishing skirts of the speaker as they disappeared around the doorway. The language was familiar, but not her own. And the bed was comfortable, but not her own. She felt the echo of shouting in her ears, and a wind whipping around her as the very earth shook and rolled beneath her. As she stared at the ceiling, waiting for whoever the young woman had promised, her heart seized with all that she couldn’t recall. _Where am I? What happened to me?_ An even more terrifying question gripped her. _Who am I?_

She opened her mouth and screamed.

***

“You must get married. The coronation soothed some fears, and your speech banning reprisals against the Northuldra showed your leadership and compassion, but the people are anxious.”

Agnarr sighed and nodded to Lord Hannesel. “I understand. But alliances and diplomacy are delicate. Father had several inquiries out, and nothing ever came of them. Marriages of State take time. I can’t imagine we can do this quickly.” He tensed, waiting to see what the council would say in response to that. He didn’t say that the reason for the stagnating negotiations was his own refusal to enter into them. His heart and his hand were already bound to Iduna in a ceremony all their own in the forest on a night when the northern lights danced their approval.

“You’re already twenty-five, Your Majesty.” Captain Calder rubbed a hand over his eyes. “We could skip all that.”

Agnarr looked at him, wondering what he meant. He knew he had to provide heirs, that it was the only way to make his small kingdom feel secure again after the mist closed off the north with the better part of their Army missing in the forest. But until he could find a way to make Iduna his queen, he would not marry.

Elias said she remembered nothing but her name, and even that took two days before she could recall it with any certainty. She was still physically recovering and his sixteen-year-old sister Linnea stayed with her throughout the day. Iduna had insisted on doing housework to earn her keep but Linnea convinced her that it was an affront to the good name of Calder, and that she must recover slowly and at peace.

Agnarr was relieved that her memory was as altered as the trolls had said it would be. If she didn’t know she was Northuldra, no one else would either. She would stay safe. But selfishly, he also mourned. If she didn’t remember anything, she wouldn’t remember him.

He longed to hold her hand again as they watched a sunset from the top of a rocky cliff. The scent of cloudberries on her fingers as she pressed them to his lips, the wind softly wrapping them in a current of crisp air. To laugh over shared memories of how he had fallen into the river when they first met, how they stayed up talking by the village fire on summer nights as bright as noon.

Captain Calder cleared his throat and Agnarr realized his attention had wandered. He nodded so the captain would continue. “My daughter loves the story I learned while sailing to France, of the king there who ordered a ball be hosted for his son the prince to find a bride. All of the unmarried women in the kingdom were invited to meet the prince and his bride was selected from them.”

Lord Hannesel laughed, a short bark that startled the other council members. “It would allow us to avoid the delicate and months-long process of communicating with the other kingdoms. We can call it an act of healing for our land. We announce that to secure the line of Arendelle, the king will take a bride from our own kingdom.”

Captain Calder looked at Agnarr, asking permission. He felt the eyes of the rest of the council as well. He sighed. “Fine. Let’s proceed.”

As the council discussed plans for invitations and the proper way to communicate their intentions internationally, Agnarr stayed silent. He thought of how his father might have run this meeting, eager to stoke the violence between Northuldra and Arendelle, still angry about Northuldra’s rejection of a dam and their resistance to formal relations even after seven years of emissaries and goodwill visits. He felt a wave of relief and then one of guilt. Being free of his father was the only good that had come from the battle. And yet, it still did not allow him to be with Iduna. The chaos had robbed her of her memory and thrust him into kingship.

He thought of how trying it would be to shake so many hands and dance with so many ladies while his heart longed for Iduna. Perhaps he could find a way for her to attend, to make her his choice? He thought of sending a dress for Iduna, with a note that she was to wear it to the ball, a mystery as great as the presence of fairy godmothers on the continent. They could be introduced and dance and no one would be suspicious if he chose the beautiful woman, recently rescued by the king’s best friend. Valencia had a princess who had washed up on their shore, and no one thought worse of Prince Erik for it. The council could even frame it as a sign of Arendelle’s strength - not needing to marry their king for a military alliance or riches.

His heart soared at the thought, but then he thought of Iduna unconscious in his arms, her head bruised and the troll’s hands over her, telling him that the price for her healing was her memory. How could he seek her out but not tell her who she was? How could he tell her who she was without putting her life in danger?

She was safe at the Calder’s house. And as king, he would do all he could do ease the fear and anger his citizens had for Northuldra. He would bring the leaders of the lynch mobs to justice, he would make it known that though their troops were trapped in the mist, it wasn’t clear that anyone had been killed besides his father. He would do all he could to keep her safe. And that would have to be enough.

****

Linnea tossed dresses out of the closet, a pile of brightly colored frocks that seemed to float before they fell onto the bed.

“See? I have so many! Father always brings some home when he travels! So wherever you’re from, I bet there will be one in here that feels comfortable to you! And you simply must go to the ball. You’ve been sad and lonely for too long. A ball is just the thing to lift your spirits.”

Linnea hugged one of the dresses to herself. It was a shade of pale yellow that made her dark hair and skin look even more striking than usual. Iduna reached to touch the silk of one dress, the muslin of another. She rubbed the stiff boning of a petticoat that stood on the bed like the skirt itself was sitting down for a visit with them.

“I think…I don’t think I wore dresses.”

Linnea laughed. “What did you wear? Breeches? Pantaloons? I think your head must not be healed quite yet.”

Iduna shook her head, then gingerly touched it. “No, that’s not right either.” She sighed, frustrated.

“Time for tea then, and perhaps the krumkake I saw Mother hide away for Father. The ball isn’t for another week. That’s plenty of time to find the outfit that will make the King mad with desire.”

***

The lanterns were lit from Market Square to the Castle Courtyard. The black buntings and veils of mourning had been lifted in favor of sprays of crocuses and wheat, a reminder that Arendelle still stood, that it had a future of hope.

Agnarr kissed hands and said his greetings and danced with the ladies. He didn’t step on any toes and made sure the refreshments were well stocked and that he could guide them to the food when the affections of any particular woman became too much.

Because he didn’t plan to pick a bride tonight. He could follow the direction of the council to host a ball, and he certainly owed a lot to Captain Calder. But he could not choose a queen while Iduna breathed the same air, was in the same city, while she needed him in ways she didn’t even know and he needed her in a million ways he could name but didn’t because they had to remain strangers. If she came tonight he planned to nod, smile, and look elsewhere for a dance partner.

But then he saw her.

She was on the arm of Captain Calder, Elias behind them with his fiancée Thea, and Linnea linking arms with her mother next to them. The herald announced them all together as “The Calder Family and Guests!” The orchestra played a merry tune and he was vaguely aware of Lord Hannesel at his elbow, complaining about a missive he had received from the Southern Isles. Agnarr left him and walked toward Iduna, an unsteady feeling in him like the first time he climbed with the Earth Giants’ help. He bowed to her and ignored Elias’s eyes, certain they held warnings or judgement or both. She didn’t curtsey until Linnea whispered in her ear, and then stumbled through it, her cheeks reddening and her movements awkward. Agnarr was relieved to see that her face was no longer bruised. He held out a hand and she placed hers in his.

“Welcome to the Kingdom of Arendelle. I was so glad to hear of your rescue and recovery.”

Iduna attempted a curtsey again, this time more fluid in her motion. “Thank you, Your Highness. I’m most grateful to the Calders.”

The sounds of the orchestra swelled, or perhaps it was his own heart, but soon his hands were on her hand and waist, asking her for a dance and she placed hers on his shoulders in reply. Their eyes met and he saw her deep intake of breath. Did she remember? Was she remembering? She faltered in her steps.

“Would you mind if we sat down for a bit? I find I’m tired quite quickly these days, perhaps my injuries aren’t as healed as I had hoped.”

Agnarr apologized immediately, hating himself for not noticing her struggle. He walked them past the refreshment table and saw Elias dancing with Thea, his adoring eyes so focused on her that he didn’t see Agnarr escort Iduna away from the dancing crowds. He led her to a private garden where he ushered her to a bench by a pool of water. As she sat down, she kicked off her shoes and sighed.

“You’ve heard of me I suppose? The house guest who was rescued from pirates? I’m afraid I don’t remember the daring tale of my rescue, or anything else for that matter.” She laughed, and he was relieved that her laughter sounded like he remembered, not tinged with bitterness. “I’m probably the least interesting person to talk to here tonight. I know absolutely nothing about Arendelle or its ports or its trade or its harvest or even about the frightful sea battle I survived that would surely be a good tale. I know nothing that could intrigue you or capture your interest. I hardly know what I find interesting!”

He couldn’t help it. He reached for her hand and squeezed. “Then you’re the perfect person to talk to. Everyone else here is vying for my attention and a proposal. It’s exhausting. Perhaps we can talk for a while?”

She smiled, and it was like he could breathe again. The wind rushed around them and for a moment he thought she remembered too.

“Yes, let’s.”

He wanted to clutch her to his chest and murmur words of love, to run fingers through her hair, once wild. Instead he squeezed her hand and said “Good. Now tell me. Does Elias sneak out to meet Thea at night as much as his mother fears?”

She laughed again and he thought how wonderful it was to hear his favorite sound in the world once more.

***

When the clock struck midnight, they were still talking. She jumped at the chimes and put a hand to her cheek. “Oh! The Calders planned to leave now. I should go find them. I still don’t know the kingdom well, I would surely be lost if I left on my own.”

Agnarr reached down to where she had kicked off her shoes, bending low to pick them up. He kneeled in front of her with the shoe in his hand. “May I?”

Iduna untucked her feet from under her skirts and soon his hand was on her heel and ankle, gently placing the shoe on one foot and then the other. Iduna shivered a bit and he realized he was still holding her foot, still looking in her eyes. He stood.

“Are your shoes not comfortable, that you take them off when you sit down?”

She stood as well, taking his proffered arm. “The Calders are kind and had new shoes made for me. But they feel strange on my feet. I’m not sure where I’m from or what shoes I used to wear, but I am certain they weren’t dancing slippers made of canvas and covered in satin.”

“Perhaps you would allow me to take you to the cobbler, to have some others made. Reindeer hide boots are a specialty here, and I would like for you to see the best of Arendelle.”

Iduna smiled, ducking her head, a redness to her cheeks as she answered. “I believe I already have.”

***

Agnarr took Iduna to the cobbler the following day, on a tour of the wheat fields the next, and to examine the clock tower from the inside on the third. Elias gave him looks of warning each time he came to call on her at the house, but Agnarr was adept at using his guards or his schedule as a means to avoid the conversation that Elias clearly wanted to have with him. He knew it was a conversation he should at least have with himself – _What are you doing? How can this end well? Shouldn’t you let her build a new life here, apart from you? Apart from the havoc your people have brought upon hers?_ But when he was with Iduna, it was like breathing the air again after suffocating. He told himself he was making sure she was acclimating well, that he had her best interests at heart. That he was fulfilling vows they had made to each other.

On the fourth day, he was prevented from calling on her because of a council meeting. He had arranged for the castle kitchens to send chocolates and farikal and arrived at the meeting late after agonizing over what kind of a note to send with the basket. 

“Congratulations, Your Majesty!” Lord Hannesel greeted him with a clap on the back and a large smile. “We’re already drafting the announcements.”

Captain Calder puffed up proudly. “I’m delighted to know that my suggestion worked. And with our own houseguest as the bride! What a lovely and lucky girl. Linnea sighs all day over the romance of it all.”

Agnarr stuttered in his reply, unsure of what to say. “N – no, I haven’t…”

Lord Hannesel clapped a hand on his back again. “King Agnarr, we promised the people – we promised the world - that you would find a bride. And it seems you have. You spent the entire evening with one young woman, and have seen her every day since. If you haven’t asked her yet, you should.”

Other business was discussed, but Agnarr could hardly pay attention. _He could marry Iduna! The council wanted him to marry Iduna!_ But just as quickly as the joy rose in his chest, a dark cloud of fear covered it and pushed it down. _How could he marry her when she didn’t remember who he was? Who they had been and still were to each other?_

***

Agnarr and Captain Calder went to the captain’s house as soon as the meeting ended, the words of congratulations ringing in Agnarr’s ears. He found Iduna sitting outside in the garden with Linnea, who was quickly ushered away by her father. Agnarr sat down next to Iduna and after a moment’s hesitation, took her hand. He felt braver at the touch. Iduna squeezed it and smiled at him.

“I like this house. I would like a home that feels this way. It’s so full of love and affection. I hope I had this once. And I hope to have it again.”

Agnarr gripped her hand more tightly and cleared his throat. “I would like that too. With you. If you are not yet recovered, we can wait. I will wait for you. But I want to give you that - a home with love and affection. Would you- would you marry me?” His voice caught as he said the words, remembering the Northuldra wedding they had witnessed together, how Iduna had whispered the translation to him and he had been filled with the desire to say those words to her in front of their own fathers, to promise her a warm fire and heavy furs, plentiful food in winter and a hand to hold in the summer sun. How he had asked her to marry him later that night and she had hugged him so tightly it knocked both of them over, their laughter echoing through the trees and causing a rush of ptarmigan and quail to hurry out of the brush, roused by the sound of her shouting “Yes!”.

Iduna reached for his other hand and squeezed it too. “Yes. I would like that. I would like that very much.” She leaned forward and he was amazed that the heat of her body, the scent of her, was the same even so far from the forest. He tried to erase his memory, to make it vanish like soldiers in the mist, to make this their first passionate kiss. He tried to think of this as the first time he found bliss with her lips on his, the sweetness and thrill of it so welcome after weeks of fear and terror. But he remembered being in a cave by a quiet stream, words said solemnly in handfast, his body covering hers, both eager in the pledge and the promise of it. A vow he would never break, but would renew time and time again. 

***

There was so much about her identity that was uncertain. She didn’t know her favorite dessert or how to take her tea, which hymn to select for the ceremony. But this she knew. She wanted to be his wife. It was almost like remembering. The feel of his hand in hers, the press of their lips; his every touch felt both thrilling and reassuring. Sometimes when she was with him, she had half-memories of the time before her injury. The sensation of leaning into his body as they walked underneath the trees brought back a sense of comfort and peace, the wind swirling leaves around their feet brought a rush of joy and the desire to run and feel the strong gusts of it against her face. But even though those memories couldn’t have been of him or made with him, they made her feel closer to him somehow.

Linnea was enchanted by the news, clapping her hands and falling back on her bed with a sigh. “What a way to start your new life – Queen Iduna! Perhaps I should see about getting some pirates to help with my matchmaking!”

Elias hadn’t seemed pleased, but then, nothing much pleased him as he grew increasingly eager to wed his fiancée. He was probably just upset that the royal wedding was taking place so quickly while his engagement had been set at a year, a request from Thea’s parents so they could set up a new house for them as dowry.

She couldn’t explain to Linnea or Elias that she wasn’t excited to be queen, that it was a bit overwhelming to help lead a country when she still wasn’t sure which one she was even from. But the safety and attraction she felt for Agnarr defied all logic. Why was she so eager to take his hand, to talk in the moonlight until the first rays of sun reflected on the sea and he had to hurry to the castle to prepare for meetings and petitions and ceremonies? She wasn’t sure who she was, but she felt the most like herself when she was with him.

Mrs. Calder had urged her to live in the present since she couldn’t remember her past. She had encouraged her affections for Agnarr after the ball, though she told her she would always be welcome at their home as a daughter, and that she should only marry the king if she wanted to. Mrs. Calder also spoke of the good man Agnarr was, and how she had similarly trusted the kindness of her husband before she had known him very long, watching how he treated his sailors and her family while conducting trade. She talked about growing up in Trinidad, not accepted into society fully, not fully rejected. And how sailing to a completely new country was both a thrill and a terror, but one that led her to much happiness. At the end of their talk she had hugged Iduna tightly and told her to call her by her name, Elsa. Iduna thought _This is a mother’s love._

***

The Calders hosted a small dinner for the royal couple the night before the kingdom-wide wedding and celebration the following day. Elias had taken Agnarr by the arm and dragged him into the shadows before letting him come into the house.

“Ag, you know this is crazy, right? You have to tell her. Tell her who she is and who you are to each other. Tell her about your secret marriage and your plan to make your father accept it.”

Agnarr shrugged him off, looking around him. “Don’t speak of that! It is still not safe for her.” He hissed in a low voice, glancing at his guard who stood nearby, hopefully out of hearing, but watching the pair with open curiosity. “What else can I do? The council demands that I wed. Is it better to marry someone I don't love while I still love Iduna? Doesn't that ruin an innocent life? Three lives?"

Elias shook his head. “I just know it’s wrong. It’s a hard way to start a marriage. Or in this case, continue one.”

Agnarr was firm. “I have to marry for the kingdom now. And she is the only one I will marry. There is no time for anything else. I can fix this. It won’t be a secret forever.”

Despite Elias’s cold welcome, the dinner was filled with laughter and joyful teasing. Mrs. Calder lamented that there was going to be one less person in the house to help her prevent Elias from sneaking out for nightly visits to Thea’s house.

“I promise you, Elias, if I have a grandchild born one minute before nine months after your wedding, the full wrath of the Arendelle navy will be dispatched upon you.”

Captain Calder choked a bit on his wine, laughing. “What’s that dear?”

Linnea tried a sip of the wine and made a face. “Oh Mother, please. We know Elias was born on a ship while you and Father sailed to Arendelle from Trinidad. You didn’t even make it to port for the wedding reception!”

Thea and Elias laughed, Agnarr and Iduna joining in with hands clasped under the table. Mrs. Calder put a hand to her chest in an exaggerated gesture of horror. "We were married on the ship! The wedding reception was just a formality to celebrate what had already happened on the ship!"

Linnea snorted. “Oh, we know what already happened on the ship!”

***

Later, when Elias walked Thea home and Agnarr walked with Iduna in the garden, he pulled at his collar, adjusted his sleeves and let go of her hand to wipe the sweat on his jacket. “I’m sure you’ve heard talk of heirs and securing the line of succession, but I want you to know that I don’t expect that, certainly not tomorrow on our wedding night. We can wait until your memory returns, or until you feel more settled. Or…uh…never.” He raised her hand to his lips and kissed it. “I am happy to continue holding your hand and remaining your friend. I’m sure this has all been so much. We have time to get to know each other and for you to get to know yourself.”

Iduna again had that half-remembering sensation, hands joined and kisses on skin, promises and the trust of a long friendship. “I don’t want to wait. I would love to start a family with you. To have children. It would make me feel less alone, like I have a place here.” Agnarr put a hand on her cheek and she nestled into it, a heavy sigh of satisfaction escaping like smoke from the hearth.

“You will always have a place with me.”

Iduna closed her eyes, enjoying the feel of his hand on her cheek, but then opened them as a thought came to her. "I don't even know if I'm a virgin. I know I’m not...with child. That has been made quite clear in this past month. But I can’t tell you about my past at all. I don’t know what’s expected of a queen, but I know purity is."

Agnarr pulled her closer, tucking his chin above her head, his hand running up and down her spine, calming her. “It doesn't matter.” His hands paused and he corrected himself. “I mean, of course it matters, your life and experiences matter. But I will cherish you no matter your past. Even if you were a pirate. I've pledged myself to you and I meant it.”

She laughed at that and they walked back inside, ready to make promises in front of the kingdom.

***

He brought a bottle of wine into their bedchamber, but she waved it off.

“My head has already been too altered. I want to know all of this, all of you, and to remember it clearly.”

She turned her back to him and when he stayed at the door, clutching the wine glasses and bottle, still and uncertain, she spoke over her shoulder. “Help me with the fastenings.” He could see the slight flush in her cheeks. It was a more enthralling red than the Bordeaux in his hands, one that was already sharpening his senses rather than dulling them.

“The maids put me in this dress; I don’t know how to get out of it.”

He set down the glasses and the wine and walked towards her slowly, deliberately, pausing at her sharp intake of breath when he put a hand on her shoulder. He kissed her there, and then began on the buttons that ran the length of her back. He moved cautiously, unfamiliar with the pearl buttons, not wanting to tear the lace fasteners, and waiting for her breath to sound even and calm. He kissed her each time a button was undone – on her shoulder, on her neck, on her ear and paused when she shuddered. He smiled faintly. That had always been her favorite spot and it comforted him to know it still pleased her. When he got to her waist he untied the strings of her petticoats, his fingers working the knots while he nuzzled his head into her neck. He whispered into her ear.

“Should I keep going?”

“I think I can step out of it now.” Her voice had a husky quality that he recalled too keenly, its effect on him immediate.

He helped her slide the dress over her hips, the yards of silk and heavy layers falling away and she shivered as it pooled on the ground. She turned to face him and shivered again, a tremble that ran the length of her body. She stood in her chemise, hugging herself tightly, and there was a moment when they were both very still and quiet, looking at one another. Agnarr was trying to control his breathing, to keep any expression of the desperate want he felt off his face, determined not to frighten her. He put out a hand and she took it and stepped out of the dress.

“Are you alright?” He swallowed.

She nodded. “Yes. Just cold. Warm me?”

He reached to cup her cheek with his hand and she turned her mouth to kiss it, then took it and placed it on her chest, holding it so he could feel her. His heartbeat quickened.

“I like when you touch me.” Her voice was soft and he was unable to tear his gaze from her mouth. To feel anything more than her heat burning through the thin cloth that separated him from her skin. “You don’t have to be so slow. I want this too.”

His intention had been to go slowly, to just sleep with her in his arms, to ease her through their transition from acquaintances to newlyweds. But the smell of her hair and the curve of her body against his all night was no longer enough. He wanted this too. He had ached for it ever since he had been told she was safe and whole, save her memory. He had missed the comfort of her warmth and the wordless, gentle love and acceptance she had communicated through their act of joining together during their Before.

He moved closer and kissed her, running his tongue along her lips and then breaking away to kiss all the places he knew would earn a shudder of pleasure, a gasp of excitement, a plea for more. He could prevent his words from betraying that he knew her, but their bodies spoke to each other in a primal way that was heady and familiar. Mouths found favorite places to kiss and nip, hands instinctively knew where to gently press or tightly grip. They turned as they kissed, rotating towards the bed and soon the back of his knees hit against it. He lifted her up and laid her down, then undid his buttons before joining her there.

Later, with her head on his bare chest and his arm around her waist, she stroked his arm and said something that made his heart remember what he had tried to forget.

“I don't think I could have done that before. I surely would have remembered.”

***

“How the fuck is she already pregnant, Agnarr?”

Agnarr looked at Elias. His friend’s mouth was in a tight line, no smile in his eyes. “The usual way.”

“Does she know? Did you tell her?”

Agnarr’s silence was the answer and Elias hit the table in frustration.

“Don’t forget, I’m your king.”

“Yes, you’re my king. And a much better man than your father, or so I thought. Is there something about the crown that makes you forget other people have feelings worth considering? Should I be impressed you waited until her injuries were healed before you took her to bed?” He scoffed, derision dripping from his voice. “Such self-restraint.”

Agnarr glared at him. “She was eager to start a family. I didn’t pressure her. She wanted this too.”

“This is wrong. And it gets worse each day you don’t tell her. The lie grows bigger and when your wife finds out, the lie will be so big between you, you won’t even be able to see each other over the chasm it created. You can’t let Iduna think you don’t know her, that she doesn’t know you.”

Agnarr’s face again took on the familiar lines Elias knew, ones of worry and self-doubt and concern. “But she doesn’t know me.”

***

On walks in the woods and the gardens he had to pretend he didn’t know which smells she’d like best or which animal she would delight in spotting the most. And it was a pang in his heart each time she had to be told the names of trees and flowers and herbs once so familiar to her that she could brew tea with them, create a poultice, play a prank with itchy nettles on her interfering brothers.

It was easier, now that she was pregnant. Everything was new to both of them. Her cravings, the way her body grew and changed, the names they discussed, the fluttering of kicks and the wonder of a life forming inside of her. A new world was opening before them and they could enter it at the same time, equally novice, equally eager, equally delighted to turn two into three.


	2. Chapter 2

Iduna barely knew her husband when they married. She barely knew herself. Often upon waking she could recall the edges of things – an idea of sunlight on a stream, reindeer grazing nearby, the smell of smoke from a campfire and singing voices that joined with hers. But before she could see faces or hear names or make sense of where, it was gone.

Despite not knowing her husband well or her own memories at all, she felt quite safe with him. He was a kind man and he was devoted to her. His kindness was not only for her. When he had taken her to the cobbler’s shop, he asked after the man’s children by name and left castle-made sweets for them when he settled the bill. On a tour of wheat fields, he rolled up his sleeves to examine the planting, complimenting the farmers on their use of fertilizer and asking about planned crop rotations. 

She found him endearing, so willing was he to share his deficiencies as he saw them. When he showed her the inner workings of the clock tower he had haltingly confessed it was his favorite place to escape his father’s ire or tutor’s schedules, the many flights of stairs a deterrent to both. He pointed to his favorite reading spot and told her his favorite tales and histories, promising to send his volumes to the Calders’ if she wished to read them too.

And yet he could be the commanding King when necessary. Shortly after their wedding, she accompanied him to the trial of the men accused of dragging Northuldra traders out of their Arendellian homes and killing them in retaliation for a skirmish in the north that had happened around the time she was rescued from sea. She listened in the Byrett, rapt, as Agnarr extolled the importance of welcoming all people to their port kingdom, letting justice prevail over vengeance, and calm over anger. He spoke of the Northuldra people as peace-loving, and the battle at the border as a confusing chaos where the magical elements had attacked Arendellian and Northuldra without discrimination. He stated that he saw his father fall to his death, but not by whose hand. He declared that both the Northuldra spears and Arendellian swords had been directed at the attacking Earth Giants and gusts of fire. She wondered at the mist that closed over all of them now, and knew it weighed heavily on him, though he did not want to talk about it with her.

Sometimes their bodies spoke without any words needed. She thought they were best at understanding each other through touch, though it made her blush to think of it. She couldn’t have told him her birthday or her mother’s name or the color of her eyes unless she looked in the mirror yet she seemed to know how to kiss the curve of his neck, stroke the plane of his back, admire the cords of muscle along his arm and encourage the tickle of his mustache on her stomach. Her favorite evenings were the two of them in their wide bed, exploring each other and needing no words to do so. In their bed, it was just the two of them, and figuring out what they liked wasn't frustrating like learning the names of all the monarchs of Europe or the rank of each council member. His pleasure and hers were a delicious goal to seek, an assignment she enjoyed as much as he clearly did.

It became easier to look forward instead of back once she was expecting. Agnarr had nearly wept at the news, solemnly promising to love her and the baby more than his duty to his kingdom. Linnea had begged to be named godmother. Thea helped her let out dresses, confessing that she hoped to be doing the same for herself in a year or so, if only her parents would let her and Elias set the wedding date. Elias had come to congratulate Agnarr, but left in anger. She supposed it had to do with his own delayed wedding plans and the frustrations that went along with that.

The Arendelle dishes she learned to like became unbearable in the first few months, and all she could eat for a while was fjellbrød and pepperkaker, the ginger soothing her riotous stomach. Just walking through Market Square and smelling the fish market was enough to send her to gutters, adding the contents of her stomach to the waste there. She had to excuse herself from a state dinner when the delegation from Finland presented a tray of lutefisk, the graying mass of it taking up residence in her nose.

Then, suddenly, at four months she was ravenous. Agnarr delighted in feeding her, making a game of it. The kitchen staff made meals of every nation they knew, and each dinner was a tasting course to see what the queen liked and what she politely declined. She felt her happiness swell with her growing baby, and thought Agnarr’s was too. She felt powerful in their lovemaking, her round middle and full breasts proof that her body and his had communion. _Look what our bodies can do, look what we did. Look at the family we are making, look at this life I am building._

***

Iduna had few memories. And she was eager to make more. She walked in the Market Square, sometimes with Agnarr, sometimes with just her guard, and learned the names of the shopkeepers and shoeshiners and the merchants setting up carts with blocks of ice or fresh produce from the outlying farms.

She walked along the docks, giving out food to the women there whose fate she might have had if the Calders had not intervened, and learned the names of the boats and their crews. She learned the time of day that school let out for lunch and met the children with treats on Fridays, and when she learned one of the teachers was feeling ill, she sent her home and read the children stories until the end of the day. Later, the queen’s physician came to call on the woman with a basketful of food and medicine, packed by Iduna. 

She judged the Harvest Festival Pumpkin Carving Contest and then gamely wore the pumpkin crown that was carved by her husband in one of the most popular events of the day. She and Agnarr stayed for the length of the festivities, and when she showed him how swollen her feet became after standing for most of the day, he carried her back home to the castle.

The people of Arendelle watched as the queen grew and shouted name suggestions for the baby when they saw her. Some gave her gifts – a carved reindeer, a cornhusk doll, a crown of entwined crocus stems and petals. She cherished them all and felt the hard plane of the wood, the rough and delicate husk, the velvety softness of the petals as she thought _These are my people now. I belong here._

***

In November, Iduna and Thea picked flowers from the castle greenhouse for Thea’s bridal bouquet. Thea confessed to feeling nervous about the act of consummating the marriage, even though it had been difficult to wait through such a long engagement.

“Will it hurt? Will it be awkward? Will we just laugh and not be able to?”

“I thought it would be awkward, us not knowing each other well.” Iduna blushed, but continued. “But for a time it was all we could do well, without awkwardness. He was always hesitating before speaking, or starting to say something but then stopping. Perhaps that's the royal way? To be so guarded?” She blushed again. “But alone in our bedchamber, there is no hesitation.” She sighed, turning her head away from Thea, fingering the petals of a tulip. “I suppose he is a king. And was a young, eligible prince for a long time. I'm sure he had many opportunities to woo the ladies and learn.”

Thea selected a crocus and then reached for a rose. “I've lived here my whole life but there's never even been a hint of him courting anyone. Elias never mentioned anything either.” She shrugged. “But I suppose there are other ways of learning.”

Iduna cut the stem of the tulip she had inspected and handed it to Thea. “When you know each other as well as you and Elias do, it is sure to be wonderful.” She smiled, feeling mischievous. “Or it’ll become wonderful after the first few tries.”

***

Agnarr had one arm on the rope, and one around Iduna. The castle courtyard was packed with citizens eager to celebrate the start of the season. As Agnarr pulled on the rope and rung the bell, the crowd erupted in cheers and whistles. 

“You’ve done this, Agnarr. You’ve turned their mourning into joy.”

He leaned down to kiss her, and the crowds cheered even louder. “No, you have.”

***

When Elsa was born later that month, it coincided with a blizzard that shut down the ports for a month. The fjord was frozen over, which no one could remember happening ever before. Agnarr was secretly delighted. He leaned Iduna against his chest as she held Elsa to hers, and the soft hair on Elsa’s head, so white it seemed invisible until touched. “What a boon! To have more time with our daughter and with you.”

The council carried out Agnarr’s orders to pay the workers usually dependent on trade and the sea their usual wage, even though they could not work. “Call it a gift to the kingdom to celebrate the arrival of our princess!” When Lord Hannesel protested, Agnarr was firm. “My father levied taxes that were overmuch. We can give back to the people this way, in their time of need.”

Iduna tried to wrap the baby tightly and sit close to the fire. But for all that baby Elsa seemed cold, with hands like icicles and layers of frost on her blanket in the morning despite the roaring fire in her nursery, she was a happy baby. When she smiled at six weeks of age, Agnarr stroked her cheek and said “Just like your Mama! A smile fit for a queen!”

Iduna felt the familiar sensation of tears in her eyes, something that had been happening frequently during the pregnancy and still now in these early stages of motherhood and little sleep. She thought _Here is a person who looks like me. And she will always know where she belongs and who she is._ She closed her eyes and made it a promise, a vow, a hope, a prayer.

***

“It’s so dark in here.” Iduna said as she walked past Agnarr, pushing a sleeping Elsa in a pram, and drew back the curtains. Dust fell lightly from them, making her cough, and she shielded Elsa’s face from it. Agnarr was still standing in the doorway. When she saw him, frozen by the open door, she walked back to him and gently took his hand. “It’s time. You want to do this.”

He squeezed her hand and shook his head, looking down at the wooden floors. “I don’t really want to. But I should do it. It’s been a year. I should look through his desk and his belongings and see if anything should be archived or shared with the council.”

“Has no one been here since he died?”

“No one. I told the servants to seal it off. I wish I could have just forgotten about him entirely. It would be easier to sort out my emotions that way.” Agnarr’s head jerked up quickly, a stricken look on his face. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean that.”

“It sounds like he was a hard man. I can see how your feelings for him would be complicated.”

Agnarr sighed and walked further into the room. He hesitated behind the large cherry wood writing desk. Iduna walked behind him and picked up a portrait in a gilded frame and ran her finger over the woman’s face. “I see you in her. Is this your mother?”

“Yes.” Agnarr smiled. “She died when I was a small child and I don’t remember her much. My father always wanted to tell me about her, but I never wanted to hear it. I thought knowing her would make me miss her more.” He paused. “Is – is it better, do you think? To not know what you’re missing? Is that how it is for you?”

Iduna leaned down to kiss Elsa’s head and then straightened to answer. “I think I would rather know who my mother is and miss her. The feeling of loss is still there. I would like to have a name for it.” She put the picture back on the desk and picked up a stack of papers. “Now. Let’s get to work.”

***

They sorted the letters from the receipts and council notes, read aloud correspondence from a fussy Duke of Weselton, and laughed over a series of portraits that Iduna found of a ten-year-old Agnarr, chest puffed out with pride and hair neatly combed back. When cooing issued from the pram Iduna picked up Elsa and nursed, sitting in the large chair behind the desk. Agnarr smiled at her and started in on the next stack. Iduna let her eyes close as Elsa nursed, enjoying the sense of accomplishment that nourishing her baby gave her. She might not be able to give Elsa portraits of herself as a child or a family home steeped in tradition and riches, but she would be her mother, she would give her what she needed, and she could give her as many memories as she could hold.

She heard the soft rustle of papers stop and opened her eyes. “Did you find anything?”

Agnarr was squinting and reading the document again. “Listen to this. _My King, The troops are readied for our trek to the North, though they do not as of yet know the orders you plan to give. We will be armed and ready to attack at your direction. The soldiers have not attacked civilians, have been trained never to do so unless it’s life or death, so you may have trouble with compliance on that. I will do my best to ensure that bloodshed is minimal and that we are victorious in annexation. – General Sorensen_.”

“Your father planned the attack? The one that killed him?”

Agnarr looked at the letter again. “So he started the battle. He was killed in retaliation, not in ambush.”

Iduna watched as several different emotions passed over his face: anger, sadness, and then – was that hope?

“I’ll show this to the council. We’ll organize a day of lamentation for our kingdom’s plot and the soldiers we lost to the mist as a result. We will pray and seek forgiveness and atone.” He looked up from the letter and into her eyes, the intensity of his feelings clear. “Perhaps it will be enough to begin talks for peace among the council. And perhaps – maybe – it is what will bring down the mist.”

***

The bishop bowed his head and those in the chapel followed suit. “We ask for mercy and we ask for forgiveness.”

“Oh Lord, hear our prayer.” The many voices of a full congregation – Agnarr and Iduna, the families of missing soldiers, the Council members, the leaders of industry, the farmers, and the working men and women of the kingdom echoed in reply. Crowded into the pews, they all hoped for a change in the mist.

“Our nation has sought its own glory and not yours, we have sought to conquer the land rather than steward it, we have sought to rule over our fellow man instead of treat him as an equal. We ask for mercy and we ask for forgiveness.”

“Oh Lord, hear our prayer.”

“Friends, hear the promise of the gospel. In Jesus Christ, you are forgiven. Amen”

Agnarr bowed his head with the rest, but prayed also to the spirits, that the Air, Earth, Wind and Fire would see fit to release the Enchanted Forest from the grip of the mist it had sealed it with. He prayed that his daughter would grow up knowing the two halves of her identity, and that Iduna’s identity would be restored to her. He prayed for his soldiers, for his kingdom, and for his family, and he wasn’t sure who he trusted to answer the prayer.

***

Spring came late and the castle still felt cold. There were drafts of icy air as late as May and Agnarr asked the servants to seal up wherever the cold was coming from, not wanting his wife or child to catch a chill.

Then on a warm day in June while the royal family sat on a blanket in the sun, baby Elsa propped into a seated position between them, they watched as her hands that had been empty only a moment ago were suddenly holding a ball of ice.

“Where did that come from? That bit of ice she has?” Iduna reached for it, feeling the coldness of it and her daughter’s hands, checking for frostbite on her fingers. 

They watched as Elsa clapped her hands together and snowflakes fell between them.

“Is she – is she making that? Is she making snow? Is she making ice?” Agnarr’s voice was incredulous. “I’ve never heard of a child doing that. Here or in any kingdom, even those with more magic.”

Iduna picked Elsa up quickly and laid her in her lap, checking her feet, her arms, her legs. “Is this my fault? Is this something common where I am from? Have I cursed our daughter with magic that will be dangerous to her?” Her questions had become frantic, the words pushed against each other as she said them.

“No!” Agnarr’s answer was quick and she looked over at him. He reached for Elsa and picked her up under her arms, lifting her high in the air. “No. Elsa is a gift. Her magic is a gift. And we will work to make the kingdom safe for a magical queen.”

“People were lynched less than a year ago for being associated with the spirits of the Enchanted Forest. The day of lamentation might have swayed some hearts on the Northuldra, but not all. And mothers tell their children stories about the terrible trolls who kidnap little ones with glowing crystals that tell the future. People don’t trust magic. How can you keep her safe? She’ll be in danger every day if people find out!”

Agnarr brought Elsa down to his chest, holding her with one arm, and put his other around Iduna. “No, we’ll protect her. She can learn to control it I’m sure. ‘Til then we’ll lock the gates. Reduce the staff. We will limit her contact with people. We’ll keep her powers hidden from everyone.”

Iduna shook her head, reaching to hold Elsa’s hand. “Won’t that raise suspicion? Suddenly changing staff and access to the castle?”

“Not for a new royal family who wants their privacy. I can explain it simply, believably.” 

Iduna breathed in deeply, leaning into his side. Elsa blew bubbles, and as they dribbled out of her mouth, they turned to wisps of snow, floating away but never melting in the heat of the June sun.

That night in their bedchamber, he reassured her with kisses, nuzzling into her neck and laying her down on the crisp linen sheets. They grasped and pulled at each other, desperation and worry dissipating into the pleasure of his hands on her thighs and her legs wrapped around him. As they rocked into each other, their steady rhythm and the press of their bodies was soothing, like a cry for mercy or a prayer of hope.

***

“I won’t sign this.” Lord Hannesel crossed his arms and sat back in his chair. “This is not good for our kingdom.”

“Our kingdom wrongfully attacked another, with no provocation. We must sign this declaration of peace and post it – on the docks, in the Byrett, near the stones where the mist begins. It will serve as a sign of our intention to keep to our own borders and to respect the lands and resources of the Northuldra as a distinct sovereign power from our own.”

“It will serve as a sign of our weakness!” Lord Hannesel spat out his words, derision in them. “A sign of a young king who is afraid of battle. Your father was not afraid.”

“My father committed war crimes.” Agnarr pushed the paper across his desk, pointing to the inkwell. “All of the other council members have signed. Willingly and happily. You will sign too or you will resign your position on my council.”

Lord Hannesel stood, pushing the document away. “Your father was right about you. You’re too soft. And he was right to not tell you of his plans for annexation. You wouldn’t have understood the need to display military might then and you aren’t making the right choice for your kingdom now.”

Agnarr stayed seated and calm, mustering as much command into his voice as he could. “I am making the right choice for my kingdom. You are no longer welcome in my council or in my confidence.”

Lord Hannesel turned to leave, the edge of his coat knocking the inkwell over and it looked to Agnarr like a seeping wound on the desk, soaking and sprawling, spreading its stain.

***

For Elsa’s first birthday, every child in Arendelle was given a book of fairy tales and fireworks lit the cloudy sky. The castle gates were opened for a celebration in the courtyard and Iduna hoped any signs of snow or ice could be blamed on the December weather.

After having the gates closed for half of the year, it felt disorienting to have them opened again. There were too many eager faces and curious looks, and all Iduna could think about was a mob hurting her baby like the rioters had done to the Northuldra traders not even two years before.

Iduna rocked Elsa long after she had fallen asleep, needing to feel the motion of it and the crush of her daughter’s body against hers. Agnarr came into the nursery at midnight and found Elsa asleep in her crib and Iduna asleep in the rocking chair, their hands linked through the slats of the crib. 

He ran his hand along Iduna’s cheek and then scooped her into his arms, tucking her head against his chest and walking them back to their bedroom. She awoke as he settled her into their bed.

“I have a gift for you as well. It’s not complete yet, but it will be by summer. By the time we need to keep Elsa’s powers more hidden.” He curled his body around hers and spoke into her hair. She sighed and settled into him, feeling safe and warm. “It’s a cottage on our border, near the Enchanted Forest. The architects are calling it the Royal Sommerhus. A barn and attached guesthouse for servants if you want some there.” He nuzzled against her neck under her ear, giving it a small kiss. “We can go when the weather is warm to keep her from suspicion. Open the gates here again, stay at the castle only in winter. The Sommerhus will be our refuge in the warm months.”

Iduna turned so she was facing him and placed a hand on his cheek. “That’s good. Thank you..” She kissed him, grateful. “Did you give out the fairy tale books so that some in the kingdom might long for magic instead of fear it?”

Agnarr smiled and she saw hope in his eyes. The promise of a better future. “I did. And it might. We can hope.”

Iduna touched her nose to his. “We can.”

***

Iduna hoped but she also researched. She bought books on enchantments and spells, hunted down by a broker in town who thought they were being bought by a royal dressmaker looking for unique ideas. She asked Captain Calder to tell her about the various ports of call he had seen while still sailing, paying particular attention to those with fantastical or magical elements. She learned about undead pirates who were cursed to sail forever, mermaids who sang so beautifully it drove men mad, princes who transformed into beasts. But nothing about ice or snow. She used a room next to the library, not exactly a secret from Agnarr, but not something she shared with him. Because she was beginning to suspect that she had brought this to Arendelle. That wherever she was from was central to the mystery of understanding their daughter.

She was coming to believe that Agnarr might think so too. Though they had been married for almost two years now, he still seemed closed off, unwilling to tell her certain things. He wouldn’t talk about the day that made him king, or about what the conflicts with his father were about. He had been silent to her teasing questions about how he learned to be so skilled at the movement of their bodies together. Could her past be poisoning their marriage, even though she didn’t know what it was?

After months of this, the answer came quite suddenly. Iduna and a maid were giving Elsa a bath. As Iduna wrapped her in a warm towel, she hummed a tune under her breath.

“What’s that, You Highness? What’s that you’re singing?”

Iduna stopped and thought about it. “I don’t know. It just came to me. I suppose I’ve heard it in the Market Square?” She sang a few more notes of it and stopped when the maid tilted her head.

“Pardon me for saying, Your Highness, but that’s a Northuldra lullaby. How do you know it?”

Iduna shook her head, fear rising in her chest. “I…I don’t know.”

She handed Elsa to the maid, directing her to dress her and walked quickly down the hall to the library. She thumbed through the books until she came to the section on foreign kingdoms, her fingers shaking as she felt on the spines and squinted her eyes to read the dusty titles. No one used this section, but she knew there were some books in the Northuldra language here. She found one and pulled it down, opening it up, and immediately dropping it.

It was written in Northuldra runes.

And she understood it perfectly.

***

“I need to tell you about my past. And where I’m from.” His fingers touched her hair and she nestled her cheek against his palm.

“I’m listening.”

It was always easiest to talk to him when they were touching. She thought about how safe he always made her feel, how he had promised that he would keep his vows to her even if she was a pirate. But wasn’t it worse if she was Northuldra, at least for most in Arendelle? He might be trying to change that perception with apologies and justice, but would he really want his wife to be from the tribe that murdered his father? Where Arendellian soldiers were still stranded in the mist or killed in battle? She shivered and leaned closer to him, the words barely above a whisper. “I think I’m Northuldra.”

He stiffened, but didn’t pull away, so she continued. “I can read their runes and I know one of their songs. I know the language.” She looked up to his eyes, but she wasn’t sure what they held. They were glassy and shone with something she couldn’t comprehend. She swallowed hard and drove on, praying he would believe her. “I didn’t realize until today -” With a shock she realized that he was crying. His tears were running down his face and falling to her arm. He leaned his forehead against hers and let out a deep sigh. He was silent for a long moment.

“You are. You’re Northuldra. We escaped the battle with the spirits, the North Wind helped us flee, and I brought you out of the wood before it closed.” He gripped her tightly against him and gently rubbed his thumb over her cheek. “You were injured. Somehow, you had hit your head. You were unconscious - barely breathing. I didn’t know how to help you. So I took you to the trolls. They could save your life, save your mind, but it came at the cost of your memory. They warned me it might - but I couldn’t live without you, Iduna.”

Iduna drew back, tensing, her heart pounding and her breath coming in gasps. It was too much, all at once. He had said it so quickly, like it was a relief to say the words, but there was no feeling of relief for her. “You’ve known? You’ve known me and not told me who I am?”

She pulled away from him and he reached for her, palms up, arms outstretched. “I wanted to keep you safe! I was worried you’d be killed if people knew!”

“But to keep it from me? You could keep it from others, Agnarr, but you should still have told me! Do you trust me so little? I am your wife!” She continued to back away from him, hugging herself tightly and focusing on her anger to keep the tears out of her voice.

“Please, Iduna, I just wanted to keep you safe!”

“No!” She began to cry, choking on her words as she did. “You didn’t trust me! You didn’t trust me with the truth. Or is it that you don’t trust any Northuldra? That you wanted me to stay ignorant about my past so I would be the perfect queen, no wild ways or savage impulses?”

Agnarr took a step back, his hands still reaching for her. “No! No, of course not! I love you and I love the ways of the Northuldra! I want peace between our people!”

She scoffed. “So I’m a token, a way to gain their trust if the mist ever opens? Queen Iduna, the Northuldra bride?” Her voice cracked on the last word. “How could you use me like that?”

“Iduna, I love you!” He said desperately. “I loved you before any of that happened. We were handfast to one another a year before the battle, before any of this. I was wrong to lie, but it was to keep you safe! Please, believe me!”

She swallowed, her voice a whisper. “Do I have a mother? Father? Brothers or sisters?”

He spoke gently, still trying to touch her but she stepped away again and he stopped moving. His hands dropped uselessly to his sides. “Yes. Your mother and father and three older brothers loved you very much and you loved them. But...the battle was so chaotic, and you and I were away from where it started. I don’t know who else besides my father was killed.”

She backed up until she hit the doorknob of their room. “I’m leaving. Elsa and I. I’m taking her. I can’t - I can’t look at you.” She reached behind her, gripped the doorknob with white knuckles, turned and ran until she got to Elsa’s nursery. Iduna collapsed next to the crib, silently weeping so as not to wake their child.


	3. Chapter 3

The letter arrived to the Sommerhus before she and Elsa did, Agnarr’s mark in the wax that sealed it together. Iduna thought he must have written while she was packing clothes and toys, directing which servants were to accompany them. She had also scribbled off a hasty note to Thea and Linnea inviting them to come visit and putting a cheerful slant on her hurried departure. 

_Please come see Elsa and me at the Sommerhus! Agnarr is staying in the palace, royal duties preclude his presence._

Elsa loved the journey north, looking out the window of the carriage and pointing at every new animal and person and house she could see. “Baa! Sheep! Cow! Moo!” When they arrived at the house, Elsa had craned her neck around each corner as she toddled through, calling “Papa?” Iduna felt the prick of tears in her eyes, and swept them away quickly, before Elsa would see and turn the whole cottage cold with frost in sympathetic worry.

As the servants unloaded the carriage and trunks and the cook set up the pantry and a light meal for dinner, Iduna put Elsa in her crib for a nap and took the letter upstairs. She settled into an unused bedroom. She couldn’t bring herself to use the room that she and Agnarr had occupied on previous trips. For having hardly any memories, the ones she did have were certainly plaguing her now.

She expected a quickly jotted note, a “Please forgive me,” or a “Please come home,” or perhaps even a “I am your King, you must do as I command. Come home now or I’ll take our daughter away from you.” It didn’t seem like him to do that, but then did she truly know him? After keeping such a big lie, what else could he be hiding?

Instead, the note was two pages of cramped writing, Agnarr’s hand faint in some places and overly strong in others as if he was having trouble controlling his emotions as he wrote. She put a hand to her cheek as she read, and this time, let her tears fall.

_My Dearest Iduna,_

_I know I don’t deserve your forgiveness, but I’ll ask for it just the same. I will write down for you all that I know of you, some in this letter, and more to follow each day. But if you find that your tastes have changed, know that my love has not. I loved you when we were fourteen. I loved you still at twenty-four when we pledged ourselves to each other. And I love you now at twenty-six with a child of our own. I will love you whether or not you remember anything and whether or not you are the same girl with whom I fell in love. I will love you in this life, and every life, and hope that we can share this one again soon._

_Your lips were cold the first time we kissed, almost frozen. You took me to a spring of water, you told me it was the purest in the whole forest. The water was clear and cold and you said there was legend about it wielding the power of truth. That those who drank of it would tell their secrets. You drank first, cupping your hand into the water and bringing it to your mouth. The water dribbled down your hand and from a corner of your mouth and I was mesmerized by the sight, wanting nothing more than to kiss the spot on your lips that was wet, to take your truth and make it my own. I dipped my hands in the water and drank too, and said the first thing that came to mind, a truth so basic and fundamental but one I had not said out loud to you before. “I love you." You smiled and said “I love you too.”_

_I leaned in to kiss you, and the cold water made us both gasp and then laugh. But soon we had made our own heat and the relief and joy I felt at saying those words and hearing you say them warmed me brighter than the summer sun at noon. I wish I could tell you if you were nervous or excited or impatient for me to say those words but I don't know. As well as I knew you then, I won't guess at your inmost thoughts and I hope they come back to you someday. But I will tell you mine - and they are that I love you wholly and desperately, that I am so sorry for betraying your trust, that being your husband and the father to our daughter is worth more than this kingdom or any other. I love you. You don't ever have to forgive me but I hope you will believe that I love you._

_Yours, Agnarr_

Iduna folded the letter and got into the bed, letting herself cry for the girl she was and couldn’t remember, and over the husband who knew them both but had kept it from her.

***

Every day, letters came. Some were as long as the first, some were short. They made her laugh and cry and rage. She might have ignored them altogether, but she was so eager to know about who she was and who they had been. And she hated that she was dependent on him for that. That he could have told her this a year or two ago and chose not to.

_***_

_My Dearest Iduna,_

_Your anger is justified, but please know nothing will ever change my love for you and our daughter. Yours, Agnarr_

***

At the end of the first week, Agnarr arrived and delivered a stack of letters to her in person. She was holding Elsa who squealed and clapped her hands together at the sight of him, and she wiped the tiny icicles that grew from Elsa’s fingers. Agnarr kissed Iduna on the cheek and whispered urgently in her ear. “Read them alone and burn them when you’re through.”

When she started to read, she knew why they couldn’t be kept. He had written to her about the Northuldra – the rituals, the legends, the spirits, the names of her family members and what they were like. Songs that he remembered. Foods she liked to eat. Speculation on how Elsa’s powers might be related to the enchantments of the forest, though it was a unique magic he didn’t think had been seen there before. He had given her his study of the Northuldra people. 

Having it might get her killed, even as the queen. Lord Hannesel and others still fueled resentment against the Northuldra and there were rumors he was gathering support. Agnarr had even told the maid who had heard Iduna sing the Northuldra lullaby a carefully concocted story of his remembrance of the tune from a trip there, explaining that he had taught his wife.

She put the stack into the fire but held the last one a bit longer, waiting until all the others were burned before parting with it.

_My Dearest Iduna,_

_Your birthday is September 5th, a time when the leaves in your forest start to change and the colors are so bright it seems like the trees have dressed up to celebrate you. Your mother gave you a shawl at birth with the patterns of the spirits on it. It wasn’t with us the day we escaped the mist._

_We wrapped it around our hands when we were handfasted._

_I was so hopeful we would create peace between our people. My father had been getting more aggressive and insistent in matchmaking for an alliance with a European nation, angry at my declaration that I would marry you. I thought if we had our own ceremony, just the two of us, and if we had the privilege of creating a new life, it would force him to accept us. We could also create a new and peaceful life for both of our nations._

_You took me to a cave and we sat alone. How my hand trembled as you held It. How comforting it felt to be wrapped up in your shawl, and how impossible it was to imagine my life without you. It still is._ _Yours, Agnarr_

_***_

At the end of the second week, Thea and Linnea came to visit. Linnea and Elsa played outside while Thea and Iduna took tea in a private area of the grounds. 

“I’m surprised the king’s not here. Elias said council meetings were cancelled last week and this week too. No one has seen him for some time. I half thought I would find him here when we arrived!”

Iduna shook her head. “No. He’s been to visit, but not to stay.” She looked at Thea, deciding if she could share the reason why. But if she told her, would she be in danger too? 

For the first time, she understood Agnarr’s decision to keep her identity hidden. But it didn’t give her any relief.

***

“Agnarr. Ag! Wake up!” Elias entered the king’s bedchambers, waving off the guard and servants. He shut the door behind him and moved to open the tightly drawn curtains. The sunlight streamed in on a sorry sight.

Agnarr was lying face down on the bed, clad only in trousers. Elias looked to the heaps of clothing on the floor, the trays of untouched food, full glasses of water, and the two bottles of akvavit uncorked, empty, and lying on their sides.

He sat on the bed next to Agnarr and began slapping the soles of his feet. “Sit up, Ag. Get up!”

Agnarr groaned and rolled over, putting an arm over his eyes. He made a move to sit up, but groaned again instead.

“Thea sent me here. She visited Iduna this week and could tell something was wrong, though Iduna didn’t say what. She told me to come here and fix whatever it was so her friend won’t be so sad anymore. So you see? You’re making a liar of me too. Because I can guess what this is about. And if I’m right, I won’t be able to tell my wife the truth. So thanks for that.”

Agnarr remained silent, but managed to move into a sitting position. He cradled his head in his hands and leaned his elbows on his knees.

Elias’s voice was sharp, his words meant to hurt. “Thea was always talking about how romantic it was, the two of you, and how amazing Iduna told her the…physical aspect of your relationship was. How intuitive you were.” He snorted and shook his head. “And I'll never tell her it's because you've loved Iduna since you were fourteen and were handfasted at twenty-four, and married a whole year before this fiasco began to unfold.”

Agnarr blindly groped for one of the glasses of water, knocking one over but grabbing one next to it. He drank slowly, eyes closed.

“Did she find out? She knows who she is and she knows you lied about it?”

Agnarr set the glass down and turned to face his friend. Elias saw the red rimmed eyes, the unshaven cheeks, the sunken look of him. “I've ruined it. I've ruined us.” His voice was raw. “And now she has no one and our child won't know me. And why should she? A liar and a coward is all I am. Better fatherless than to have me.”

Elias was silent a moment and then moved to put an arm around his friend. “What will you do? Is it really beyond fixing?”

Agnarr took a short breath, his breath hitching and his voice held a strange timber as he replied. “I don’t know.”

“Give her time, Ag.” Elias sighed. “Keep apologizing and give her time.”

***

He kept writing and at the end of every week he came to the Sommerhus to hand-deliver letters about Northuldra customs and the details of her family in the Enchanted Forest. Iduna would read them and then burn them as she looked out of the upstairs window as Agnarr and Elsa played outside. Father and daughter would walk through the fields or woods, stopping to inspect interesting insects and beautiful flowers and the feel of a small creek. Iduna could see them from her upstairs window. She would pause in her reading to see Agnarr with his shirt sleeves rolled up, holding the flowers that Elsa picked or lifting her high onto his shoulders so she could get a better view of a woodpecker. There were times she wanted to go and hold his hand, to run her fingers along the familiar curve of his forearms she so admired. But after he read their daughter fairy tales and rocked her to sleep, he slept on the floor in her room on a pile of blankets and cushions. And, after silently checking in on them, Iduna would retire to the room where she slept alone.

***

_My Dearest Iduna,_

_My greatest fear, other than harm coming to you or Elsa, is that Elsa’s magic was given to her because I lied to you. Did the spirits see my actions and give us a child with magic so that I would tell you about your ties to a land so blessed with it? If so, they must want to punish me greatly for failing that twice. And I want to punish myself. But Elias, who has known all of this, says it is not helpful. That I should be patient and contrite. So I will be. Because you deserve that and so much more._ _Yours,_ _Agnarr_

***

“Happy Birthday, Elsa!” Linnea jumped out of the sled as soon as it pulled up to the Sommerhus. Elsa waved and Iduna shouted from the front steps.

“It’s so cold! Hurry inside!”

Captain Calder helped his wife down from the sled and then collected a pile of brightly wrapped presents from underneath their seats. They hurried to the warmth of the house, shucking their coats and hats and mittens and knocking snow from their boots as they came through the door.

“Are Elias and Thea here yet? The roads are treacherous today.”

Iduna took the topmost packages and shook her head. “No, not yet. But they might have waited on Agnarr to join them. And I’m sure Elias will ask the driver to go slowly. He has been so cautious since Thea began to show.”

Linnea took a present from her father’s arms and gave it to Elsa. “Open this one now! I made it for you!”

Elsa took the package and hugged it to her chest. “Thank you!”

Iduna laughed. “You’ll have to show her what to do. She doesn’t know she has to open it.”

Linnea pulled at the ribbon and it fell to the floor, and then pulled at a corner of the wrapping until it ripped. “Now your turn!”

Elsa looked doubtful about the wisdom of ripping the paper, but did as she was told and soon discovered a fabric doll, with a blue dress, yellow hair, and a small crown on its head. Elsa hugged it to herself. “Baby!”

Linnea smiled. “Yes, a babydoll! I made her look like you, only I had to guess at the hair color since you’re still mostly bald. And I used one of my old dresses for her dress so she is a very fancy baby doll. Shall we go show her your room?”

They ran upstairs, the other presents on the pile forgotten. Iduna breathed a sigh of happiness, a tight feeling in her chest at Elsa’s delight, and bent down to pick up the strips of wrapping paper that had scattered on the floor, like bright and cheerful snowflakes. “She loves it when Linnea comes. I think she gets lonely here.”

Mrs. Calder tilted her head and looked at Iduna. “Agnarr hasn’t joined you here yet?”

Iduna looked down, looking to where Captain Calder had stacked the remaining presents. “No, it’s been too difficult for him to leave the castle.” A blush was creeping up her neck and she pressed the wrapping and ribbon into a ball and worried it with her hands.

Mrs. Calder looked to her husband, who cleared his throat and changed the subject. “I’m fairly certain Agnarr was bald for the first two years of his life. It’s quite common in children with light-colored hair.”

A gust of cold air swept in as Thea, Elias, and Agnarr came inside. “Did I just hear someone call me bald?”

Captain Calder laughed and clapped him on the back. “Happy birthday to your little one! Two years old!”

Hugs and greetings were passed around as everyone discussed the snow, the cold, and the delight of celebrating a birthday with the happy royal family. Agnarr and Iduna shared an awkward look, and Agnarr leaned over to kiss Iduna’s cheek in greeting. She stayed very still, hands grasping the ball of paper, unsure if she should respond or not, wishing her body wasn’t longing for more touch from Agnarr, the heat from his kiss making her feel as if the whole room had been warmed.

Thea groaned. “Having children is a blessing, but being pregnant is surely a curse of biblical proportions. Elias, help me take my coat off.”

Mrs. Calder and Elias both helped her, and then ushered her into a chair by the fire and Iduna excused herself to get her a glass of water. She listened to their voices as Captain Calder mused about the state of the roads, Elias wondered whether or not the driver needed help settling the horses in the barn, and Thea and Mrs. Calder decided if it was better to sit close to the fire and prevent a chill or further from it so as not to get overheated. Iduna smiled, glad to hear the voices of friends, of her family.

“Iduna.”

She turned and saw Agnarr, his hands behind his back. She wished she hadn’t discarded the ball of paper. Bunching it in her hands to conceal her emotions had felt satisfying in a way holding a glass of water did not. Her heart sped up and she wondered if he had a new letter for her. She wondered if he would kiss her, hug her, hold her, now that the Calders were here to see their interactions.

She wondered if she wanted that.

“I didn’t write a letter this time; with the Calders here, I…”

She nodded in understanding, trying to keep any look of disappointment from her face. Today was for Elsa, not her. “Of course.”

“But also, with the Calders here I thought we could, if you want to of course, and only if you feel comfortable, we could tell them about your origins. Elias knows already and I know you think of them as family. We can trust them. And I don’t think it would endanger them, with Lord Hannesel off the council and public opinion slowly changing.”

“If we can trust them, why didn’t you tell them three years ago?”

A faint redness appeared on Agnarr’s neck and he nodded quickly to her, almost a bow. “I should have. I should have told you too. Every day I think about how I could have gone about this all differently. What I could have done better. What I could have done right.”

Iduna handed him the glass of water. “Bring this to Thea? I’ll get the glogg ready for everyone else. I gave the staff the week off since the weather looked to be so bad. I knew they’d want to be home with their families.”

Agnarr took the offered glass. “Think about it? You don’t need to give me an answer, now or…you know, ever. But think about it.”

Their fingers touched as the glass passed between them and Iduna felt a shiver run through her. She turned quickly so he wouldn’t see the confusion on her face.

Wasn’t she still mad at him for lying to her?

“Yes, I’ll think about it.”

She heard his footsteps and the conversation in the other room growing in volume as his voice was added to it. She knew she had a lot to think about. What was easy to ignore while playing with a toddler all day was harder to ignore now. As she poured raisins and almonds to the glogg on the stovetop, the feeling of safety Agnarr’s touch gave had stayed with her. She did feel safe with him. He had done all he could to keep her safe, both during the battle and every day after. He had done all he could to make life safe for Northuldra in Arendelle, whether or not the mist ever opened. He was a good man, a just king, and a devoted father. And she could forgive his mistake.

Through his letters she had fallen in love with him in new ways. Learning all she had lost was a heartbreak, but what she didn’t have to lose was him.

She didn’t have to be without family, either. The Calders loved her, and would keep loving her even if they knew her past the way Agnarr did. She could trust them and not shut them out in fear.

***

After a cold walk with Elsa pushing her new baby doll sleigh around the yard, eating cake, and Agnarr playing his violin while Elsa spun and danced in delight, it was time for her to go to bed. Iduna picked her up and carried her to each guest for a goodnight kiss and then she and Agnarr took her upstairs.

Iduna laid her in her crib and watched as Elsa’s chubby arm slung around the baby doll’s neck, pulling it closer and breathing deeply. Agnarr reached into his violin case and took out a red and purple shawl, soft and trimmed with fringe. He covered Elsa with it and ran his hand up and down Elsa’s side, humming the tune he had been playing on the violin a few moments before. She smiled and closed her eyes. Agnarr straightened.

“That’s my present to her. And you too, really. I had a weaver make a shawl like the one your mother gave you when you were born. I know it’s not the same, but you can tell her about your family and maybe this will help.”

Iduna reached over and ran her hands along it, feeling Elsa’s sleeping body and wishing she could remember being wrapped up in her mother’s shawl, safe and protected, loved and cherished.

“Thank you.” She looked at him and hoped he could see in the low light that she truly was thankful. That it was a thoughtful gift that she would treasure and one that proved again how much he valued that part of who she was. She hoped he could tell she wanted to say more but didn’t want to wake their daughter or break this spell of calm and quiet, of understanding and maybe even forgiveness that felt like a shawl around her shoulders. “And I thought about it. I think we should tell the Calders. This weekend while they are staying here. But maybe not tonight. I’m tired.”

Agnarr nodded. “Would you like to go to bed now? I can give them your excuses and show them to their rooms if you’re too tired. I’ll go sleep with the drivers in the guesthouse.”

Iduna stepped towards him and reached for his hand, the same sensation of safety and calm reigning over her as it had earlier in the day, as it did every time they touched. “No. You can show them their rooms but then come to our bed.” She turned and left the room, heat building in her cheeks and in her stomach and she wasn’t brave enough to look in his eyes and see what he thought about that.

***

“They’re all settled. And I looked in on Elsa just now - she’s asleep.” He shut the door gently behind him and looked around the room, still not quite sure if Iduna had meant for him to share their bed. Was it merely for appearances? So they had one less thing to explain to the Calders tomorrow? He looked around the room, searching for something to say. Something to break the awkward silence. “The room is so clean and orderly. It doesn’t even look like anyone has been staying here.”

Iduna was sitting on the bed, changed into her nightclothes. “I haven’t been. I stayed in the room next to Elsa’s. I didn’t want to stay where we once had.”

“Oh.” He winced, sorry again for how he had hurt her, once more wishing he had made a different choice.

She looked at him and then spoke quickly. “No, I don’t mean that I was angry with you. I missed you.” She paused and took a breath. “Well, I was also angry with you. But I didn’t want to be in our bed without you.” She put her hand down next to her on the bed. “Will you come sit? I think better when I’m touching you.”

He laughed a little as he came to her and sat down, their thighs touching and her head even with his shoulder. “I have a hard time thinking when you’re touching me. Except about how much I want to be touching you.” She leaned into him, her head on his shoulder.

“When I touch you, it’s almost like remembering. I know I’m meant to be with you. That it’s right.” Agnarr turned his head so he could kiss her on the top of her head. He brought his hand up and ran it through her long hair. It was unwound from the neat crown braids she usually wore as queen and reminded him of the way it had been in the forest.

“Your hair was like this when I first met you. Down and a little wild. Wavy and dark and beautiful. I was staring so much at how it moved in the wind that I fell into the river because I wasn’t looking at how close I was to the bank.”

Iduna laughed. “You didn’t write about that in any letters!”

He brought his hand to her shoulder, running it up and down her arm. “Some things were too embarrassing to commit to paper.”

Iduna reached to his face and cupped her hand around his cheek. She ran her thumb over his mustache, back and forth and back and forth, like she was soothing his worry. “Thank you for giving me all of those memories. And for all of the ones here in Arendelle that I can recall – being your queen, being the mother of our daughter, knowing the Calders. That’s all thanks to you.”

His hand stilled. “Iduna, I’m so sorry. Truly.”

She stood and nudged his knees apart to stand between them and then brought both hands up to this face. “I forgive you. And I love you.”

He gripped her under the thighs and lifted her up so she was seated on his lap, chests pressed against each other and her legs around him. He buried his face into her chest but she could still hear his whisper. “I certainly don’t deserve it. But I love you too. I wish I had the words to tell you how much.”

She leaned to his ear, kissing it on the lobe and shivering at the feel of his hands on her back, the movement of his hips into hers. “It’s not your words I want right now.”

***

The Calders didn’t seem surprised or upset to hear that Iduna was Northuldra. Captain Calder even suggested that they tell the council. “They, like everyone else in the kingdom, love the queen. And they will see it as a chance to strengthen the statement of peace: naming the queen as Northuldra and your marriage as an alliance that respects and honors their people.”

Mrs. Calder hugged Iduna tightly. “Our love for you has not changed. Perhaps richer now for the truth of things, but not changed.”

“It makes sense.” Linnea spoke as she reached to pick Elsa up out of Iduna’s lap. “Is that why Elsa can make ice?”

The adults in the room all stared at her. Her mother spoke first. “She can…do what?”

Agnarr cleared his throat. “Yes, it seems she can make ice. And snow as well. But it’s not a known gift among the Northuldra and we don’t know what it means. We don’t know if the power will strengthen or fade as time goes on and she grows up.”

Thea reached to take Elsa from Linnea. “Show us, Elsa, dear. Show us the snow.”

And Elsa did.


	4. Chapter 4

A day later it was Christmas Eve. Mrs. Calder and Iduna lit candles in the window of the Sommerhus while Elias, Captain Calder, and Agnarr took turns going outside, knocking on the door, and singing carols when Elsa opened it. Thea joined the singing in between bites of kringla and butter cookies from where she was ensconced by the fire. Elsa had another round of presents to open, including a new doll made by Linnea.

“Your dolls are sisters! Like you might have one day. I only ever had a brother.” She sighed dramatically and Elias put her in a headlock, rubbing her perfect curls with his gloved hand.

“I’m a delight and you know it!”

She laughed and squirmed out of his grasp. “See? See what brothers do?”

***

Iduna stretched and yawned, then again fit herself against Agnarr, her back against his front. He moved his hand up and down her arm lazily. 

“Shall I tell you a bedtime story?”

“Hmmm?” Her eyes were already halfway closed, but she opened them at the sound of his voice as it rumbled through her chest. It had been a wonderful day, a frenzied flurry of activity and happiness and she felt settled in a way she hadn’t since waking up in the Calder’s house without a memory. This is what it was to have a family – grandparents and aunts and uncles all celebrating together.

Agnarr moved his hand higher and tucked some of her hair behind her ear. “I’ll tell you a story. To make up for not bringing a letter with new memories.”

Iduna turned herself over so they were facing each other and smiled at him. “I’d love to hear a story. Maybe one about my brothers? Ruben, Duvka, and Lemek.” She recited the names, still unfamiliar on her tongue. “Can you tell me more about what they’re like?”

She slipped her hands between her cheek and the pillow and put her feet under his for warmth.

“I didn’t know them very well. They’re older than us and have their own families. And you usually tried to keep us away from them when I was visiting. But I did see each of your brothers propose. Do you remember the ritual I wrote down for you?” He sat up to reach for the quilt and pulled it over both of them, tucking it around Iduna and kissing her on the cheek as he did so.

“Yes, but I could hardly believe it! Did they do it, truly?”

“They did! One after the other, three summers in a row. Duvka got the most butterflies, but Lemek had the most reindeer. And Ruben’s bride said yes before he even started.” Agnarr laughed. “He was so relieved. He definitely looked the most nervous of the lot.”

Iduna smiled at the story, searching for the memory but falling up short. “Did you propose to me that way? Or is handfasting so different?”

Agnarr shook his head. “I didn’t. I asked your father, Ledjo, first, which is a tradition here in Arendelle. He might have preferred the reindeer. Lemek for sure would have. He said I didn’t have a lot to offer you and might endanger you.” He reached to run his hand from her cheekbone to the back of her head. “I’m afraid he was right.”

Iduna moved a hand to hold Agnarr’s. “He must not have thought so. If he approved. My father I mean.” Saying _father_ gave her a sensation of longing and love so fierce that her eyes brimmed with tears and she blinked them away.

“He did approve. He hoped I was the future of Arendelle and that if we were wed and it was recognized, there would be peace.” He used his thumb to gently wipe the tears from the corner of her eyes, giving her a tender smile. “I was relieved he gave permission, but I thought he was overreacting about my father’s plans for war.” She could see his eyes tighten with the remembrance. “But he was right.”

“And my parents – did they like you? Not just that you would be King?”

Agnarr smiled. “I think so. I certainly liked them.” He laughed, remembering. “I called your parents “Mother” and “Father” from the age of fourteen on because at the time my understanding of your language was so rudimentary, I didn’t know the difference between their given names – Ledjo and Solja – and endearments, titles, or family names.”

Iduna laughed, catching herself before she became too loud. Settling Elsa to sleep had been hard after the excitements of the day and she was not eager to leave the warmth of the bed. She continued in a whisper. “Did I never correct you?”

He was still smiling. “No, and I didn’t learn it until I asked your father if we could handfast, and his answer was ‘You’ve been calling me ‘Father’ for years now, it seems only right.’ Lemek rolled his eyes and told him that just proved I was stupid, but your mother shushed him up.”

Iduna sighed, setting the scene in her mind of an overprotective brother and a kind mother and a welcoming father and Agnarr, ruddy with nerves and the desire to wed her.

“Do you think I’ll ever see them again? Do you think the mist will ever open again?”

He was silent for a moment before answering. “I hope so. But I don’t know.”

She turned herself over so she could once again lie flush against him and he put his hand around her waist, firm and solid. She listed the names of her brothers and parents in her head, adding in the new stories Agnarr told so that those details wouldn’t vanish in the mist like her memories. Like her people.

“Would you like to go see the mist? The stones? It’s not far from here. Perhaps an hour’s ride.”

She closed her eyes. “Yes. I want to see it.”

Agnarr fell asleep quickly but Iduna lay awake, his arms anchoring her to the present as the thought of mist surrounded her and pulled at her. What she had thought were nightmares of saltwater and the cannon fire of pirates she now knew to be the spirits of water and fire as they reigned in battle. In her imagining, the indistinct figures of her brothers and parents were on the other side of the mist, barely visible but for the volley of fire and driving rain that they shielded themselves from, never quite safe, but not defeated either. 

***

The Calders left after the New Year’s feast for their own homes and Agnarr helped Iduna pack for her and Elsa’s return to the castle. But before heading south, they travelled an hour north to the border outpost to look at the mist.

Agnarr helped Iduna out of the carriage when they arrived and then lifted Elsa out as well. The three of them joined hands and walked towards what looked to be a wall made of clouds. It was different than she had imagined – there was no smell of smoke and the clouds were stationary. It didn’t have the appearance of clouds in the sky that moved with the wind - these looked imposing and solid. The stones that Agnarr has spoken of were not visible. They too had vanished into the dense mist.

An Arendellian soldier greeted them when they walked closer, bowing and stammering “Welcome, Your Majesties.”

“Thank you, Corporal.”

“Is – is there anything I can help you with?” The soldier was brushing at his coat, and Iduna thought he must be worried about an unannounced visit from the royal family. Especially on New Year’s Day, when there was likely to have been some sort of a celebration among the few sentries posted in this lonely place. She smiled as she answered him, trying to put him at ease.

“No thank you, we just wanted to pay our respects to those still missing as we begin our year. Happy New Year to you.”

“Happy New Year to you, Your Majesty”

Agnarr reached out to shake the soldier’s hand. “Has there been any change? Any sign of movement on the other side?”

“No, Your Majesty, and still no entry that we can find. We’ve walked the perimeter a time or two and we touch it once a week or so to probe for weaknesses, but that’s a sure way to get a nasty jolt. I wouldn’t recommend it.”

Iduna looked at the mist as Agnarr and the soldier continued talking. As the other soldiers came out of their small cabin to greet the royal family, she left Elsa and Agnarr with them and walked closer to the mist. She had hoped it would be calling to her in some way, pulling at her or tugging at memories or physically compelling her to do something. But she felt nothing more than a sense of curiosity.

When she was a step away from the wall of clouds, she looked behind her to see the soldiers and Agnarr all following Elsa as she toddled back to the carriage. Iduna took a breath and reached for the mist, tensing and closing her eyes and then opening them with a start when an invisible force pushed firmly back against her outstretched palm. She turned and looked to see if anyone had been watching, but they were gathered around Elsa as she showed them the dolls she had been sitting with in the carriage. Iduna hurried back to join them before she was missed.

***

They sat in silence for a long time after leaving the border, so silent that Elsa fell asleep, her head sliding down onto Iduna’s lap. When Iduna was certain that her deep even breaths meant that she wouldn’t be disturbed from her slumber, she confessed to Agnarr that she had touched the mist.

“Did anything happen?”

“No.”

They sat in silence for a few more minutes and then Agnarr asked “Did you want something to happen?”

She looked at him and shook her head. “I don’t know.” A mirthless laugh escaped from her and she hated how bitter it sounded. “What would the Iduna you knew in the forest have wanted? And what would she have done? To be so close to her homeland and unable to get to it?”

Agnarr looked at her and she saw his confusion in the pleading and kind eyes that she loved so well. “I don’t understand.”

Iduna shook her head, frustrated. “Sometimes I think I’ll never know who I really am until the mist comes down. Until I can meet my family and see my homeland. And what if it doesn’t? What if I never know who I was? Your letters and stories are wonderful, but so much is missing.”

Agnarr reached for her hand and clutched it tightly. “You told me once that knowing what was lost was better than not knowing. Do you still think so?”

“Yes.” She sighed. “Yes, but it hurts.” She tried to swallow and was surprised to find that it was difficult. Her throat suddenly felt thick. “It hurts to miss them, but I’m glad I had them.”

Agnarr kissed her on the temple and then rested his forehead on hers. “I hope one day we’ll have them again.”

***

Iduna and Agnarr slept entwined in one another’s arms and when Iduna woke, choking at the feel of mist in her throat, Agnarr hugged her tightly and gently murmured in her ear until she calmed down. “You’re safe, you’re safe, you’re safe, you’re safe.” Even after she was asleep he found himself chanting it, wishing he could make it a royal command, a decree that all would honor.

***

Elsa smiled and hugged her mother when Iduna told her there would be a baby in their family in the summer. Linnea squealed and declared “I knew those dolls were the perfect gift!” Thea, nursing her infant daughter to her chest and dark circles under her eyes exclaimed “People do this more than once?”

As the child inside Iduna grew, reports from the border said that the mist had begun to thin, the stones were now visible and the spirit symbols on them were occasionally glowing. Agnarr ordered the soldiers posted nearby to discard their military clothing while on watch so as not to incite fear and war if the mist disappeared completely. They were instead supplied with aid and the signed notice of peaceful intent, written in two languages.

Rather than being fearful that the mist was diminishing, the citizens of Arendelle seemed curious. Agnarr arranged for a rotating roster of council members to teach those who were interested about the Northuldra in the Byrett. When Lord Hannesel interrupted one of these lectures, to shout that Northudra were savages not to be trusted, he was roundly booed and swiftly removed by the soldiers in attendance, come to describe what they could see at the border.

Iduna wanted to travel to the mist, but knew it would be best to wait until after the baby was born. It was exhausting just getting through the day while heavily pregnant. Though she hadn’t felt sick this time, the baby was much more active and it was hard to sleep at night.

Agnarr, however, had suggestions for how they could spend their evenings, and didn’t seem to mind that it was interrupting his sleep. When she woke in the night with leg cramps he would knead at her muscles, then continue the firm pressure of his fingers up to her thighs and to the places that made her sigh in want and pleasure. He kissed the round swell of her breasts and middle and she stretched her arms above her head, a pose of relaxation and satisfaction.

When the fjord became muggy with summer heat, they traveled to the Sommerhus with Midwife Reidun. In the quiet empty fields behind the cottage, Elsa would make cool gusts of snow blow across her mother’s bare feet. At night Agnarr played the violin and taught Elsa how to play on her own small version of one, tucking it under her chin and plucking at the strings.

The labor when it happened was painful but quick, and before Agnarr and Elsa had finished greeting every animal in the barn by name, Reidun had come out to bring them back in the house to meet the new baby.

Riders from the north came to the house an hour later.

“The mist! It’s disappearing! We can see soldiers on the other side – we think they’re ours. And if the count is right, there’s only one unaccounted for among the missing.”

Iduna urged Agnarr to go but he wouldn’t leave her so soon after the birth. In the following hours, riders rotated through the house with reports and Agnarr sent back messages with instructions on how to greet the Northuldra as allies.

Iduna had just begun to fall asleep, Agnarr holding the sleeping baby against his chest, when a soldier burst into the house. They could hear her excited exchange with the guard downstairs.

“They’ve come through! Our soldiers have come through! They say it wasn’t the Northuldra who attacked, it was King Runeard. He and General Sorensen are dead but the rest are alive!”

Iduna was instantly awake. “Does that mean the mist is gone?”

“I’ll find out.” He handed the baby to Iduna and ran downstairs. As she tried to nurse, she listened to the excited voices and felt her heart thrill at the thought of her homeland, open.

“The mist is almost gone, Your Majesty! It was rising slowly and vanishing into the sky! And that was happening an hour ago when I left - it could be gone by now.”

She heard someone running back up the stairs and call for help. She felt hands reach for the baby, she smelled the vomit as it came up from her throat. But mostly, she felt her head suddenly grow heavy and then unbearably painful and her own hands clutching against her ears as she screamed and screamed until everything went black.

***

Agnarr ran up the stairs, skipping the top one in his haste to tell his wife the news. The soldiers could see Northuldra on the other side, but none of them had come over to the Arendelle side. He expected to see her eager expression, hopeful and curious and bright. Instead he saw Reidun reaching for the baby as Iduna slumped over, clawing at her head, screaming in a piercing wail that sent a spike of terror into his heart.

“What’s happening? Did something happen during the birth?”

“No Your Majesty! She was fine!” The midwife pushed Iduna’s hair from her face, felt the pulse point at her throat, and continued to check her body. “She’s breathing fine - she’s not bleeding anew. I don’t know what this is!”

The soldier and guard had run up the steps and Agnarr called them in the room. “Go now to the stones. Tell the Northuldra that Iduna, Queen of Arendelle, is sick in childbed and we need their healer. Give them the peace treaty and whatever else you need in order to get their agreement. Go now!”

As the soldier turned to leave, Elsa came into the room, rubbing sleep out of her eyes. “Is Mama sleeping?”

Agnarr lifted Elsa up and hugged her against his chest, keeping his voice steady so as not to scare her with the fear in his own. “Yes dear, Mama is sleeping.”

***

Agnarr paced in the fields outside of the house, looking for a return rider. It had been almost two hours and Iduna had remained deathly still and frighteningly pale. He, on the other hand, hadn’t stopped moving. He alternated between holding her hand in the upstairs room and leaving the house to go to the crest of the hill to look for the help he had summoned. He hated this feeling of helplessness and it gave him no comfort to remember that the last time he felt this way had been the day the mist closed. For Iduna to again be unconscious, beyond his help on the day the mist opened had to mean something. Were the spirits in control of this?

He thought about sending the remaining guard to Arendelle for a physician or to the Valley of the Living Rock to seek help from the trolls, but he knew Iduna would prefer the chance to be connected with her people and their medicine. He walked back into the house and up the stairs, returning to her bedside and holding her hand and wishing he could do more. It wasn’t enough. He wasn’t enough. He had made her promises of safety and he was failing.

Reidun kept her back turned, tending to the baby who still didn’t have a name. 

***

When he finally saw riders on the horizon, he was so relieved that he sank to his knees in the tall grass before forcing himself up and sprinting for the road. He saw one Arendellian soldier on horseback followed by three Northuldra riders on the backs of reindeer. He squinted to be sure that the faces he thought he recognized were not just the hopeful wishes of his imagination, but as they drew closer he was certain. The first rider was Anja, a healer who had once dressed wounds on his hands when he had unknowingly picked stinging nettles in a bouquet for Iduna. The other two were her parents.

He spoke to them in Northuldra, his voice strained and breaking on the words. “Mother. Father.”

***

Anja and Reidun worked together behind a closed door while Agnarr took Ledjo and Solja to the nursery to introduce them to their granddaughters. They cradled the girls close. Elsa, who was three, made Solja laugh with her repeated exclamations about her resemblance to her mama. The baby nestled into the crook of her grandfather’s arm and Agnarr kept a close watch on her, knowing she was likely to be hungry soon.

He wanted to apologize for taking Iduna out of the forest, for not finding a way back into the mist, for the desperate state of their reunification. But he could not say those words while also keeping the fear from Elsa’s ears so he didn’t. They seemed to understand, Solja hugging him and Ledjo putting a steady hand on his shoulder as he spoke to Agnarr in the Northuldra language.

“We hoped she was with you. When we couldn’t find either of you after weeks of searching, we hoped you had taken her to safety.”

“She hit her head and we were close to the stones, I tried to come back but the wind pushed us out – “

Solja spoke. “The spirits were angered that day, but most of their show of strength was to prevent us all from killing each other. When the fire cooled and the wind stilled and the earth was no longer trembling, your troops and ours lay side by side with weapons out of reach.”

“They surrendered immediately. It was clear the soldiers were surprised and defiant of their orders.” Ledjo smiled. “In the past three years, some have married into our tribe and we were happy to accept them.”

Agnarr swallowed, looking at Elsa as he spoke, keeping his answer in their tongue so she wouldn’t hear the answer if it would hurt her. “And are you happy to accept us? For the friendship of Arendelle and for a daughter who is our queen? For two granddaughters who are of both Northuldra and Arendelle?”

Solja touched his cheek and turned his face to look at hers. She answered in the language of Arendelle, and Elsa smiled at her words. “We are happy to make peace with your people, just as you’ve hoped since you were a boy. And we are delighted to have two new granddaughters.”

***

Anja led them into the room and allowed Ledjo and Solja to each take one of Iduna’s hands. Reidun excused herself, explaining that she should go look in the village for a wet nurse in case the queen did not wake soon. Agnarr took the small baby with one hand, tucking her against his chest and holding Elsa’s hand with the other.

Anja spoke so quietly Agnarr had to strain to listen, the increasingly agitated noises of their infant gaining volume.

“Her sleep is restful but deep. There are no injuries that need treating and I don’t think the spirits would cause this to one of us on the day their punishment ceased. We just have to wait.”

“Have you been able to get her to drink anything? Some water? She is still recovering from the birth and lost blood, perhaps that will help.”

Anja gave Agnarr a nod and walked to the nearby basin. She poured water from the pitcher into a guksi she pulled from her pack and as Ledjo and Solja lifted her gently on either side, began to slowly pour the liquid down into her mouth. Elsa dropped Agnarr’s hand to move closer, standing by her mother’s side and grasping her knee. “Mama, wake up! Wake up, Mama!”

Agnarr’s eyes filled with tears and he put a comforting hand on Elsa’s head. “Come Elsa, we’ll let her sleep some more.”

He guided her to the door and as he began to turn the doorknob, the raspy sound of Iduna’s voice came floating up over the sound of her parents’ relieved exclamations. “I remember. I remember.”

***

News that the border was no longer guarded by a wall of cloud travelled quickly through the kingdom. As soldiers long missing came south, families celebrated the return of their sons and daughters from the mist, some still wearing the Arendelle uniform, some wearing Northuldra dress, and some introducing grandparents to grandchildren as the royal family had done. The resulting excitement was only matched in fervor when it was announced that the queen was rescued by the ministrations of her midwife and a Northuldra healer working together and that the queen had regained her memory and realized she was Northuldra. Her restored memory returning as the mist vanished was celebrated along with the signed peace treaty that both Arendelle and Northuldra affixed signatures to.

***

“I thought I’d lost you.”

Elsa had been put to bed long ago, but the baby was still awake for a midnight feeding. Agnarr took her from Iduna as the sounds of her suckling stopped and held her against his bare chest as he gently patted her back. Iduna lay back on the pillows. “I thought I was lost too. But now…it’s like I’m whole again.”

Agnarr sat down in the chair next to her bed and settled the baby against him again and reached over to stroke Iduna’s cheek. “Please,” he said, his voice breaking. “That’s twice now I’ve thought you were gone. Don’t leave me.”

She nodded and placed her hand on his. “I’ll never leave you.”

***

The Harvest Festival that year became the Alliance Festival and Agnarr proclaimed a week of celebration. Daily ceremonies took place in the Castle Courtyard and banners depicting the spirit symbols of the Northuldra and the crocus and wheat of Arendelle were displayed in places of honor in the Market Square and throughout the kingdom. On the balcony, the royal family oversaw cheering crowds in greater numbers than for even the Yule Bell. Citizens of both nations celebrated watching the king and queen place medals and ribbons on the soldiers who had defied orders against their code of conduct and on Reidun and Anja for their care of the queen. The bishop blessed the marriages of the Arendellians who emerged from the mist married to Northuldra, and then performed the baby naming ceremony for the newest member of the royal family: Anna Reidun, daughter of Arendelle and the Northuldra.

Agnarr and Iduna had decided not to share Elas’s ice magic with the kingdom yet, though those closest to her knew. Solja and Ledjo had not seen magic like hers before, but were delighted with it and knew stories of it among their people. They were confident she could learn to harness it, and could always find safe refuge in the forest if needed.

As Iduna held Anna close to soothe her from the cheers of the crowds, she looked at her husband, her oldest daughter, and then her brothers and their families and her parents alongside the Calders. Thea, well-rested, waved to her cheerily. She felt a rush of affection and gratefulness, steady like the castle hewn from rock beneath her, refreshing like the sparkling waters of the well of truth, sweet like the breeze off of the fjord, and blazing in her like a fire, one that would never go out or vanish from her memory.

***

Alone in their bedchamber, Agnarr and Iduna lay against each other, Agnarr running his hands through her hair. She turned and stroked his face, her thumb against his mustache.

“I think I owe you some bedtime stories.”

Agnarr looked at her, puzzled. “Oh?”

“Yes. You told me your memories, but I have yet to tell you any the way I remember them.” She was smiling and it made him smile back, even though he still wasn’t sure what she meant to do.

“Are they so different?”

She nodded, bringing her hands down to his chest. “When we first met, I noticed you before you fell in the river. I saw you helping Anja pick cloudberries and pull up boska and I followed you, wondering why the Dangerous Southerners I’d been warned about would be so helpful.”

He closed his eyes, bringing it to mind. “I remember that. We couldn’t communicate, so I just hoped when she pointed to something she wanted me to get it for her.”

“You helped her for an hour at least. And I followed you for at least that long. I already wanted to be your friend and learn who you were. I didn’t even know you were the prince. I just knew you were patient and kind.” She closed the inches of distance between them and kissed him gently. “And there’s something else I remember, from when we were older.”

He looked at her playful smile, the same one she had flashed at him when she invited him to play with the wind or climb the cliffs or agreed to become his wife in a cave by the river. “What’s that?”

She smiled again, and ran her fingers down his chest. “How about I show instead of tell for this one.”

He kissed the corner of her mouth, where her smile was a little crooked and thought about all the memories they had gained and all the memories they would make, and then focused on the memory they would make that night, safe and whole, fear vanished.


End file.
